Elise

When I was in the 9th grade, my Mom told us she was pregnant. Yay!

I was happier about that baby than I was about my Donnie Wahlberg t-shirt or my VHS collection. And at 15 years old, that meant I was really happy about it.

Mom tells the story:

“I got married at 19, had Amanda at 21, Delane at 23, and at 25, Grandmother held her breath for the entire year.”

Grandmother did get a little break, though. Mom had my sister Jennifer at 29, and my sister Elise at 36.

My parents had children in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s; and all of them were girls. As a mother myself, I can honestly say they should be eligible for sainthood!

Elise’s birth day was the only day that we didn’t know she was sick. We watched her through the nursery window, and talked about her dark hair and her tiny feet. She was perfect.

The next day, Nana drove us to the hospital. We walked into Mom’s room, and I could tell that she had been crying. My parents told us that Elise was very sick and the doctors didn’t expect her to live through the day.

We walked down a long hallway – surrounded by the sights and smells of the hospital – to say goodbye to our baby sister.

But that little girl had s****, I tell ya. She lived with us for four months at home, not in the hospital. She was one tough cookie.

Elise did things the doctors told us she would never do, like take a bottle or eat from a spoon. She was a rock star.

When a baby dies, there is a loss of what was, and what could have been.

On her 13th birthday, I wondered what she would have been like if she had lived. Little things, like would she have a favorite band? Would she like broccoli, or hate it?

It was the same for other milestones: Sweet Sixteen, high school graduation, and her 21st birthday. I imagined what we’d do together if only she were here.

And sometimes, on no special day whatsoever, I think about her…just because.

December 18, 1990, was the day Elise was ready for a rest, and we said goodbye to her one last time.

So, Happy Homecoming Day, Lissy Bug! I bet there was a pretty cool celebration going on in Heaven, complete with music from your favorite band. And they’re probably serving broccoli, you know, if you like it.

We love and miss you so much. Thanks for looking out for us, little sis.

Amanda is metro-Atlanta working mother of two, with a passion for writing and overpriced shoes. She says blogging saves her money, but doesn’t look nearly as good with a cocktail dress. Visit Amanda at Werdyab.